


Beer and Friends

by xChibiChan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xChibiChan/pseuds/xChibiChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Inqusition drabbles. Inspired a) the lack of f!adaar/iron bull fics out there and b) by what's been revealed and mine and my friends speculations. I'll continue to update this until the release of the game as much as I can, updating as we get new information. Relationships and tags will be updated as I update.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beer and Friends

The Iron Bull waved after his drinking companions as they headed down the stone hall into their own quarters. He started up the spiraling staircase to the room he shared with the Inquisitor. He was forever grateful that the staircase was wide enough for his horns to fit through. There were plenty of places in the Keep where he had to walk sideways to enter somewhere or had to duck deep to enter. Then again, the Inquisitor had to do the same at sometimes. Though she was much thinner than him but she was just as tall.  
He tried the door but it was locked, he dug through his pouch before producing the extra key. It took a few moments for him to stick the key in properly through the dark and with liquor coursing through his veins. Of course, by the time he was inside most of the buzz was gone. He could drink more than any human and that cost a lot of coin, coin which he had less than usual of.

A few candles were flickering about the room, but the Qunari woman was deeply asleep. Her hair was braided and her fingers were curled about it, legs tangled in the sheets. He felt his face soften at the sight. She always looked like she was about to smack everyone when she was awake, and always irritated with people she didn’t know. When she was young she had been in a small clan of Tal Vashoth off the Frostback Mountains living in the ruins of the Dale. When she grew older she trained herself to fight and steal, she moved closer to Orlais and instantly faced oppression and prejudice.

He knew a lot of that as well, every time he went out people were looking at him oddly and always moving as far away from him as they could. It was probably his scars or the fact that he didn’t wear a shirt…

As he stripped down he blew out the candles casting the room into darkness. She heard her mutter something in Qunlat before rolling over. The kossith walked over and slid into the bed beside her. The blankets were silk and some other fancy fabrics that Vivienne had gushed over when helping the woman at his side complete the furnishing of the Keep they were currently in. They were soft and light, the dusty winds outside didn’t allow them to have heavy fabrics or they would cook in them.

The winds made the windows rattle and the Inquisitor murmured sleepily before rolling over and pressing her face into his arm. He grinned and slid his arm around her allowing her to cuddle into his side. Her eyes opened and revealed her pale purple eyes. “What the hell took you so long?” she grumbled, her eyebrows came together slightly and her forehead wrinkled slightly. She had two scars on her face, one that ran down from her forehead to her cheek, just barely missing her eye. The other was over her lip, a mystery scar that she had yet to confess about. 

“The others dared me to drink two drinks for every one they did, I had to carry the dwarf back from the village, the warden-“

“He’s not a warden anymore,” she murmured tracing a grey finger over one of his scars sleepily. She bit back a yawn and placed her chin on his arm and stared up at him with an irritated and sleepy look. He simply grinned down at her.

“He had his hands full with the elf.”

"Which one?" she asked rolling onto her back. She pushed up from the bed and rubbed her eyes and stretched. Scars dotted her back and he rested a hand on the curve of her hip and traced a particularly savage one.

"Which one do you think?" he said dryly. The corner of her mouth rose and she shook her head. Her white hair rippling as she did so. He wanted to curl his hand in her hair and kiss her hard, but she probably would punch him and complain that she needs her sleep instead of respond in positive. He learned the hard way that if she didn't feel up to being romantic, she wouldn't tolerate it at all. Or anything really. She didn't like it, she let you know. Made her a pretty good leader if anyone bothered to ask him. Her face turned towards the window and studied the sliver of moon before lying back down and resting her cheek on his chest. 

"Sera," she hummed, the sound vibrating against his skin. Then to change the subject, “We’re going out tomorrow on a quest, probably to the Frostbacks.”

He sighed heavily and opened his mouth to complain but felt soft lips on his jaw. “Kadan?”

“Thanks for sticking around,” she whispered to him with a soft smile that lit up her face before she rested her head on his arm and closed her eyes. She had a lifetime of people coming into her life just to leave. Some of the scars on her back was a tragic reminder of one such encounter. Where she had been enslaved for a short period in secret and because she was stronger and larger than most human males she didn't cower beneath their punches. Yet, they didn't let her go, they tortured her until she finally gave up. Or so they thought. Zahrina had confessed to slitting her 'masters' throat when he was eating lunch in front of guests and told them if they dared to stop her she'd add their blood to their lunches as well.

He grinned and tugged her closer but the motion caused her horn pierce his skin. Blood welled up and he grunted. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him before sitting up and seeing the cut. Her face instantly turned into a glower and she grabbed a pillow and smacked his face with it. “Vashedan! Can’t even have one sweet moment without you stabbing yourself on my horns can we?” 

“Or you can pierce yourself on my horn,” he suggested with a smirk and wiggling his eyebrows. She scowled at him and he got a face full of a feather filled pillow in response.


End file.
